


Peculiarities

by MagicMysticFantasy



Series: A Deeper Country [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Golden Age (Narnia), POV Outsider, Post-The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Pevensies Used to be Royal, and it shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29772132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMysticFantasy/pseuds/MagicMysticFantasy
Summary: The Pevensie siblings came back different from the country, and everyone around them knows it. After all, they may have been children when they fell out of the wardrobe, but once they had been kings and queens - grown rulers in their own right.
Relationships: Edmund Pevensie & Lucy Pevensie & Peter Pevensie & Susan Pevensie
Series: A Deeper Country [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191224
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	Peculiarities

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a work in progress for over a year now, so I'm glad it's finally finished! It took a while to get the tone of each section right, which is why it took a while. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, as a note, this takes place over a period of time, so there is a slight progression between each scene.

**Peter**

The Pevensie kid showed up on the first day after recruitment, unremarkable except for his stillness. Most new recruits are fidgety either from nerves or anticipation - good or bad. Pevensie is simply calm, awaiting orders and instructions like he’s grown up in the military.

His commanding officer scans his file later, noting that while his father was enlisted before an injury saw him released from service, there is no other hint of a military upbringing that some recruits have. He decides to keep his eye on the Pevensie kid, and moves on, seeing nothing else of note in the file.

Three days later Pevensie is sitting in his office calm as ever, along with two other recruits both clutching bleeding noses, one squinting through a rapidly darkening eye, and glaring hard enough at him that if glares could kill, Pevensie would be dead ten times over. Not that the young man seemed to care in the slightest, of course.

“So. Four days of training, and I’m already seeing you boys about disciplinary issues,” He says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms with a stern look shown over the years to work wonders in getting people to blabber on. “Care to explain yourselves?”

“It’s Pevensie, sir!” Black Eye immediately bursts out, snarling in the recruit’s direction before coughing on some of the blood from his nose. “He hit us and put us into the dirt, he did! Broke our noses and everything!”

“Yeah, we was just mindin’ our own ‘til he comes up an’ gets involved,” Broken Nose adds on. “Ask anyone, they’ll tell ya.”

Throughout this, Pevensie doesn’t say a word, merely listening to what the others say. The only sign that he’s impacted in the slightest by whatever the other two say is the slight uptick in his eyebrow at their words, but even that is minimal. The CO looks at him for a long moment, waiting, before finally sighing and prompting him to add his own perspective.

“Pevensie? That sound about right to you?” The young man turns to look at him, and the CO has to take a moment. The boy’s eyes are suddenly far too old, far too calculating for a new recruit, and it takes the CO’s breath away for a second.

“Mostly right,” he agrees, and it’s surprising enough that Black Eye and Broken Nose are stunned silent. A wry twitch of his lips belies Pevensie’s feelings on the matter. A minor inconvenience, at most. “I did put them in the dirt, and they were minding their own business - if by that you mean having a fist fight in the middle of the canteen. That’s how Jones got that black eye. I’d have minded my own business as well if they hadn’t almost carelessly hit Smith and Bradwell too. Then, when they weren’t paying attention, I smacked their heads together.”

The CO almost gapes at him for a moment, before flicking his eyes to Broken Nose and Black Eye - Jones, it seems. Both are flushed and looking some combination of mulish and mutinous, which is enough to let the CO know that Pevensie’s account is true.

“It seems to be an effective method of dealing with men who have too much energy,” Pevensie continues knowingly, and from the look on his face the CO has to wonder how many of his schoolmates faced a similar fate, growing up. “They must have been already moving towards each other, since it broke their noses. That part was an accident. But while they were dazed, I pinned them down and waited for a senior officer to arrive and deal with it.”

The CO sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. If Pevensie had been as angry as Black Eye and Broken Nose, it would have been easy to deal with this and move on. But he was calm in the face of potential punishment, and the only injury he caused seemed to be an accident - both of the expressions on the other two’s faces make that true enough.

“Pevensie,” he finally says, opening his eyes. “One week on dish duty for causing injury to your section - and you two, two weeks on bathroom duty for infighting. If it happens again, it’ll be an official write-up.”

He watches as Pevensie inclines his head in acceptance of the punishment, and the smug looks on the other two’s faces drop into irritation. Even now, Pevensie doesn’t make sense, but the CO will take his easy acceptance over argument any day.

There are a few more incidents ending in similar ways over the next couple months, but Pevensie keeps his calm demeanor even as his peers snap under pressure or drop out from stress. His various COs watch as he offers a hand to the recruits that struggle with training, helping them up and feeding them courage until they’ve recovered.

He rises through the ranks quickly - skilled at combat, a fast learner, a good leader, hardworking. Honestly, they admit reluctantly in meetings, if more soldiers were like Pevensie, they’d be doing a lot better in this war. There’s some argument, but eventually they agree: Pevensie will be fast-tracked through the system as soon as he finishes the initial training. With luck, he’ll be a captain in a little over a year, with their help.

When the idea is finally mentioned to Pevensie, he pauses in tying up his boots, looking up. There is something assessing in his gaze, before he finally smiles and gives his agreement. But there’s a cant to his head, a lilt in his voice, just  _ something _ about his demeanor that is almost regal, and the officer announcing it has to leave quickly before his confusion shows too much in front of the recruit. For a moment, Recruit Peter Pevensie had felt larger than life, and the officer who outranked him felt small in front of him. There was no explanation, and he does his best to brush it off as he continues about his day.

But the memory stays, as Pevensie continues to excel, and the officer can do nothing but try his best to write it off as just a mere peculiarity - no matter how much his instincts tell him it’s something more than that.

**Susan**

“Isn’t Susan so stuck up? She’s always walking around like she thinks she’s better than everyone, or something.”

Carol tosses her hair as she glares at the Pevensie girl’s back as she moves down the hallway of the school. Margaret followed Susan’s path with her own eyes, catching as easily as Carol had the admiring looks from a fair number of the boys, and the way the girls would try and get her to spend time with them.

Susan’s walk had somehow turned into a glide after returning from her family’s stay in the country several years ago, and somewhere in that time she had also learned both what looked good on her and how to keep her appearance as perfect as possible. The result far outshone the other girls around her, who either didn’t care about their appearances or had no idea what they were doing still - the wrong shade of lipstick for their skin tone, the wrong patterns together in their clothes, a hairstyle that took attention away from their face rather than complimenting it. Susan made none of those mistakes, somehow managing to pull off an elegance and regality that most girls of seventeen could never manage.

Somewhere along the way, Susan Pevensie had become the girl most of the boys wanted, and who half the girls loved and wanted to be, while the other half hated her and wanted to tear her down. Carol fell into the second half of the girls, and Margaret quietly found herself in the first.

“Really? I thought she was just more confident this year, and a bit more graceful,” she comments a little quietly, afraid of upsetting Carol too much since she didn’t have many other friends. Carol turns her glare upon Margaret then, and the shorter girl feels herself shrink back.

“You’re going to stand up for  _ her _ ?” Carol sneers, her lip curling a little in disdain. Margaret feels her stomach sink at the look, realizing that she’d gone too far in her support for Susan. “Please, she’d never look twice at  _ you _ , she’s too much of a snob now for that. Besides, you’re hardly the prettiest girl in school, if she’ll come off her high horse for anyone, it’ll be someone far prettier and smarter than you are.”

Margaret feels her eyes burn despite her best efforts, and she tips her head down to try and hide her face behind her hair. She knows Carol is just jealous of Susan and taking it out on her. She  _ knows _ . But that doesn’t help her feel any better in the wake of her friend’s harsh words.

“Excuse me,” a gentle voice breaks in, and Margaret looks up in surprise to see Susan Pevensie herself looking her directly in the eyes. “Sorry to interrupt anything, but I couldn’t help but notice your necklace. It’s beautiful, and I simply had to ask where you got it?”

Carol is fuming beside her, and Margaret is so stunned that she can’t help but gape for several seconds as she tries to take in Susan’s words. The other girl waits patiently for an answer, her smile gentle as she waits for a response.

“I - I made it myself,” Margaret finally says, feeling herself flushing under the other girl’s attention. “I stayed with my aunt last summer, and they own a jewelry store.”

Susan’s eyebrows shoot up, and the response is somehow classy rather than uncouth. Margaret can’t help the pang of longing shooting through her, wishing she had even an inch of Susan’s bearing herself.

“You made that on your own?” she exclaims, eyeing the pendant anew. “That’s quite impressive - you have a talent. Is that made of silver or polished nickel? I couldn’t tell from a distance.”

“You know the differences between jewelry metals?” Margaret asks, feeling a little taken aback by the encounter still, but warming up to the conversation as it becomes more clear that Susan is genuine in her interest.

“I had some old friends who used to work with metals,” she says, an enigmatic smile playing about her features as she speaks. “They used to make the most exquisite masterpieces, and they taught me a little about it all.”

“I see,” Margaret says faintly, before shaking herself. “It’s, um, real silver. My aunt let me use some silver wiring to do it while I was with her, as a sort of going away present.”

“Well, like I said, it’s lovely and you have a talent for it,” Susan smiles, warm and kind, and Margaret can’t help but smile back. “Perhaps you can come visit our house sometime, and show me a few tricks? I must admit, it’s terribly interesting.”

“Ah, sure,” Margaret says, blinking rapidly - almost unable to believe her ears. Susan casts a final warm look at her, before turning her attention to Carol. In an instant, Margaret can see a difference in the way Susan looks at the other girl. There’s no visible change in her expression, but her demeanor is undeniably more detached.

“Carol, how lovely to see you,” she says. “I didn’t see you at the last social; your friends were looking for you.”

Carol flushes, and Margaret suddenly remembers Carol telling her all about how she’d been forced to stay home for house cleaning, rather than go out with her friends - especially after having been caught flirting with the Henderson boy by her father. Carol had been incredibly upset with her parents about it and embarrassed about the news of her flirting getting out to the rest of the students who sniffed out gossip like bloodhounds.

“Yes, well,” the girl finally says, tipping her nose into the air and looking as haughty as she can with her embarrassment clear to see. “We can’t all be frivolous children with our time, can we?”

“Hm,” Susan hums in response, the corners of her mouth twitching up a little, before turning back to Margaret. “This week doesn’t work, as my siblings already have plans to see our brother who just got permission to visit from the military. Perhaps next week then, Margaret?”

“For… oh, for the jewelry?” Margaret says, a little taken aback at the fact that Susan was serious. “Yeah, next week works, just let me know when.”

“Alright,” Susan says graciously, her smile still in place, before nodding farewell and turning to continue on to her class. Margaret watches her go, and realizes that the warm feeling in her chest is something that she hasn’t felt in a while.

“Ugh, can you believe her?” Carol scoffs. “ _ I like your jewelry _ , as if it doesn’t look amateur at best - she was clearly mocking you. And the way she walks around like she owns the place. Who died and made her queen?”

Margaret looks at Carol for a long moment. She suddenly realizes that Susan said nothing to her but that her friends were looking for her at the last gathering - the truth. Susan also had said nothing rude in her statement. There wasn’t even much intonation in it, just polite small talk, if she were pressed to categorize it. Her kindness to Margaret had also been genuine - or at least, far more genuine than Carol’s own recently.

If Susan acted like she owned the place, then it was because, on some level, she did. The other students respected her, either through admiration or through hatred. If she were like a queen, it was because she was regal in her bearing, not because she was condescending. She was kind where most were scornful, and Margaret knows that Carol herself is the latter.

“I’m going to class,” she says, taking hold of that warm happiness and pride in her chest after Susan’s words and keeping it close. She turns and walks away, feeling more regal than normal herself under the influence of Susan’s lingering presence. Behind her, Carol sputters, calling after her in a mixture of irritation and shock, but Margaret for once is able to tune her out.

Susan may have come back from the country different, but Margaret can’t help but think that she wouldn’t mind some of that difference herself.

**Edmund**

Edmund Pevensie was different when he came back to the city. Everyone noticed his change in demeanor: a little calmer, more serious, and a lot kinder than he was when he left. Many people expected that to change as soon as a week went by - old habits and all - but as month after month went by his behavior stayed the same.

The teachers chose not to look too closely at it, considering it a gift horse of a sort, but that didn’t keep them from noticing the changes. The topic often came up among his teachers - especially those who had known him before he went to the country. Several of his old teachers were friends with his newer ones, and they occasionally compared stories.

“Oh, that Pevensie boy, Edmund I believe?” Mrs. Tully said to her friend, Mrs. Jones over lunch. “That one you always used to complain about. He came into my library the other day and helped me reorganize the entire collection - we’ve recently expanded our building after receiving that donation, you remember. After that, he checked out books on  _ law _ of all things! Can you imagine, a boy his age interested in government?”

“Really now?” Mrs. Jones said, sipping her tea in interest. “He used to be such a frightful child, always teasing the younger ones and tricking them into giving up their toys or lunches. I’d heard he’d changed these past few years, and I’m glad to hear it. He was always a bright child, it was a shame he was wasting it on that nonsense.”

“Oh, you’d never know it now,” Mrs. Tully said, shaking her head. “My husband is friends with his teacher, Professor Grey, and according to him the man goes on about the boy like you wouldn’t believe. Apparently the Pevensie boy excels in English and History, though his scores in Maths and Science are nothing to scoff at either. A very well-rounded student, and helpful to the other students both inside and outside the classroom.”

“I do wonder what caused such a drastic change,” Mrs. Jones said thoughtfully, nibbling at a piece of shortbread. “I’ve known many parents who would give up an arm or a leg to get such a change to happen to their own children. Why, just the other day - oh, speak of the devil!”

At her exclamation, Mrs. Tully turned to look at what caused her friend’s surprise. Coming towards them down the street was Edmund Pevensie himself, a messenger bag slung across his torso and his nose buried in a half-folded newspaper as he deftly dodged fellow pedestrians.

“Oh, Mr. Pevensie!” Mrs. Tully called, causing Edmund to look up, eyes sharp as they immediately located the pair of women. Upon seeing them, his expression eased a bit, the sharper edges smoothing out into a calm amusement.

“Hello, Mrs. Tully, Mrs. Jones,” he said, coming up to them as he tucked his newspaper away. “How are you?”

“We’re doing well, young man,” Mrs. Jones said, smiling at him. “I was just telling Mrs. Tully about your interest in working in law, since you mentioned it when you helped me in the library the other day.”

“Yes, it’s a very admirable goal - especially for someone your age,” Mrs. Tully agreed. “Lawyers have a very respectable job.”

“It’s not about respectability,” Edmund said, shaking his head. “At least, it isn’t for me. It’s about doing the right thing - for everyone, no matter who they are or where they come from, and knowing when to give second chances. I want to make sure that happens for everyone who needs it.”

The two women fell silent for a moment as a strange weight seemed to fall over Edmund’s countenance. Something about him seemed older, wiser, more solemn. They held their breath as for a single instant, there seemed to be something almost regal about his air and stance. Then Edmund smiled and nodded at them, taking a step back, and the spell broke.

“Well, I’d better be getting home, my family will be expecting me back from working at the shop soon,” he said, lifting a hand in a small wave. “It was nice seeing you both!”

Mrs.Tully and Mrs. Jones waved back at him, in a bit of a daze. They watched as he made his way down the street until they lost sight of him in the crowds. Both of them resumed their small talk shortly after, but both Mrs. Tully and Mrs. Jones couldn’t shake the feeling that had taken over them, and they both had a feeling that they had glimpsed something much better than themselves in that instant.

**Lucy**

Mrs. Pevensie worries about her youngest. The little girl she had sent to the country had come back with some of her innocence about the world lost, she feared. Her child came back… odd. She spoke too eloquently for a child, had unusual interests, and spoke to her mother like an equal. While Lucy still played her games of make-believe, talking to trees and animals as if they could understand and respond, and listening to the fantastical stories her siblings made up for her - but even that felt different.

All her children had changed in their time away. Peter came back mature and more of a leader, Susan had grown into an elegant young woman who was clever and capable, and Edmund had mellowed in demeanor while becoming a sort of peacemaker. They had all grown up, and that was expected.

But none so much as Lucy, who should have still had childhood clinging to her like a second skin. When they had arrived home, Mrs. Pevensie had met them at the train station, and there had been a moment - just a moment - where she had been certain that her youngest hadn’t recognized her.

She would have brushed it off, had it not been for the little moments since then. Lucy gifting her petunias, thinking they were her mother’s favorite flower, when several years ago she’d known they were violets. All four of her children seemed to have forgotten their list of chores, but that was to be expected after so long away from home - except for the fact that Lucy had always hated doing her chores and now never made a sound. There was the fact that Lucy’s favorite dinner hadn’t gotten so much as a smile now, that she’d started drinking her tea without sugar, and that she ate all her vegetables without complaint.

Mrs. Pevensie was not ashamed to admit that she’d considered that her daughter had perhaps returned a changeling - especially with the rumors about their family history including a fairy ancestor. She’d almost written to Professor Kirke to gain his thoughts, since his was the side of the family that supposedly had the fairy blood, but she shook off the idea as nonsense almost as soon as she’d thought it.

“Mum?”

She jumped as Lucy’s voice came from behind her, almost slopping her tea over her hand. Turning, she saw Lucy standing there, something strange but almost regal about her posture.

“Ah, Lucy,” she said, trying her best not to show how shaken she was by her barely-teenaged daughter’s sudden appearance. “What is it, dear? Did you need something?”

“No, I was just surprised to see you here,” she said, putting on her coat. “Usually you’re reading upstairs at this time of the evening.”

“I was having trouble focusing on my book tonight and thought some tea might do the trick,” Mrs. Pevensie said, before frowning a little as she eyed Lucy’s clothes. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Peter’s train is coming in tomorrow, so Susan, Edmund, and I were going to go together to meet him,” she said, as if all of this wasn’t news to her mother, whose heart lept at the unexpected news of her eldest coming home. “Ed and I were planning to join Susan in her new flat tonight so we can get there in time tomorrow - and we get to see her new home in the meantime.”

Mrs. Pevensie blinked, before glancing at the clock on the wall. She frowned when she saw the time, looking back at her young daughter.

“You’re going alone? At this time of night?” she asked, tone disapproving. “Shouldn’t you wait for your brother, or have your sister come get you?”

“Susan said it was fine,” Lucy said, blinking at her, perplexed. “Though Ed insisted that we meet halfway once he was free from his part-time work at the shop. I’ll be fine - besides, I’ll have Peter’s old pocketknife on me in case anything happens.”

That was another oddity: all her children seemed to have forgotten that their siblings were not supposed to be the figures of authority when it came to their actions. They would do things that neither Mrs. Pevensie nor her husband would have approved of, only to say that one of their other siblings said it was fine - sometimes even a younger sibling.

All of her children had also somehow taken a shine to sharp objects - Peter favoring folding pocket knives and Edmund a kind of survival knife. Susan had borrowed from her brothers at first, before coming home one day with a beautifully sharp letter opener that she took to carrying with her. Lucy didn’t seem to have a preference yet, though Mrs. Pevensie had once caught her flipping one of the kitchen knives around her fingers.

“Lucy, I’m really not sure…” she began, wavering. “I really would -”

“Mother.” 

Lucy’s eyes bore into her, something older, more authoritative, and almost regal in her gaze. In that moment, Mrs. Pevensie’s daughter did not look like an ordinary thirteen-year-old, and she found herself trailing off in the middle of her sentence. A heartbeat later and the look was gone as Lucy returned to her cheerful self, stuffing her feet into her boots and winding a scarf around her neck.

She watched as her daughter checked her pockets to make sure she had everything, tucking away keys and a small package. During her check, she flicked open one of Peter’s old pocketknives to make sure that it worked before hiding it away again somewhere in the folds of her clothing. She turned a brilliant grin towards her mother, as she moved towards the door, swinging a small backpack over her shoulder that presumably held her overnight things.

“Bye, Mum! Ed and I should be back by tomorrow evening at latest. I’ll make sure to drag Peter along for a visit too - and maybe Susan, if she can get off work.” Lucy skipped up to her and pressed a short kiss to her cheek - though Mrs. Pevensie couldn’t help but think that it lacked the affection it once had. “Have a good evening!”

With that, her daughter was out the door and into the dark London streets. Mrs. Pevensie sat for a long moment, staring at the door Lucy had closed behind her, before turning back to her tea and tossing it back. She then stood to go make a new pot, knowing that she wouldn’t be getting back to her book tonight.


End file.
